


A Moment of Stillness

by fractalficlets (fractalgeometry)



Series: Hugtober 2020 [11]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Comfort, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cuddles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hugs, M/M, Other, Sad Crowley (Good Omens), but it’s very soft, hair petting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:33:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26982931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractalgeometry/pseuds/fractalficlets
Summary: Sometimes Crowley just doesn’t want to do anything. At all. Aziraphale reminds him that that’s okay. Sometimes what you need is just quiet and snuggles.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Hugtober 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952887
Comments: 17
Kudos: 88





	A Moment of Stillness

**Author's Note:**

> This one is soft, and a little emotional, and very comfort-y in a way I really like. I hope you do too.

Crowley buried his face more firmly into the sofa cushion and sighed deeply. Then he burrowed his hands under the cushion and squeezed it. His feet knocked against the other end of the sofa and he left them there, stilling entirely at last and just lying there, facedown on the sofa.

Footsteps entered the room and stopped. Crowley imagined Aziraphale standing in the doorway, eyes searching the scene in front of him, trying to determine what was going on. 

He didn’t raise his head.

The footsteps came closer.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked. “Do you want to move over so that I can sit down?”

Crowley didn’t answer, not with words, but he did scrunch himself up, sliding both his head and his pillow away from the end of the sofa.

The cushions moved under him as Aziraphale sat down. After a minute Aziraphale’s fingers settled into his hair, combing through it gently. Crowley sighed a little and nudged his head into Aziraphale’s hand. 

They stayed like that for several minutes. Eventually Aziraphale asked, “What’s wrong?”

Crowley shrugged.

Aziraphale waited silently, still running his fingers comfortingly through Crowley’s hair. 

Finally Crowley turned his head to lay his cheek on the cushion. Aziraphale’s hand stopped moving, but it stayed where it was, a grounding presence. 

“I don’t know,” Crowley admitted, feeling pathetic. “I just don’t want to do anything, including sit upright or- or pay attention to anything, let alone actually work on a project or something.”

“That’s all right,” Aziraphale said, smoothing a finger over Crowley’s forehead. “Some days are like that.”

“It feels stupid.”

“That’s understandable, but it isn’t. Is there something you’d like me to encourage you to do?”

“Not really.”

“Would you like to lie here on the sofa and I’ll pet your hair?”

That sounded better than anything had for the past hour. “Yeah.”

“All right then.”

Crowley shoved his cushion to the floor and uncurled until his head and shoulders landed in Aziraphale’s lap. Then he wedged his arms between Aziraphale’s back and the sofa and rested his forehead against Aziraphale’s stomach. Hugging Aziraphale was, he decided, much nicer than hugging a sofa cushion. 

Aziraphale, for his part, laid one of his arms along Crowley’s back and the other across his side, sinking his fingers back into Crowley’s hair and resuming the soothing, repetitive movements. 

Crowley closed his eyes and relaxed a little, letting his head be supported by Aziraphale’s arm and thigh. 

Some days were like that. But even on one of those days, Crowley had this.


End file.
